A Little Bit Stronger
by FrankandJoe3
Summary: A song-fic to Sara Evan's A Little Bit Stronger. Robin tries to get a little bit stronger and get over the death of his parents.


**I want to type a story that will have you sobbing and in awe, but I honestly don't know how… Not to mention the fact that I burnt my left thumb by spilling my cup of ramen on it. Don't try that. It burns and aloe doesn't help! ): Oh my, does it hurt! And Chris told me that he hates it when Tre and Chandler tease him for not holding my hand or hugging me or something. I think I'll hug him in front of them or something just so they'll shut up. I'll probably just hug him, turn around and face them with a grin and just say, "Suck it." Why? They won't drop it and I'm p-o'd at them. I love him though, and I want to hug him anyway… I will! I just hope Mrs. Durham doesn't yell at me for it. I'll say it was just to stop Tre and Chandler from teasing him. Besides, he looks so huggable! *u* - That's my drooling smile in awe face. **

**A Little Bit Stronger**

_Woke up late today and I still feel the sting of the pain  
><em>

Richard sat up in his bed quickly, his eyes swollen to as wide as they could grow, a slight gasp playing on his lips. He looked around frantically, desperate for his dream to have been real. He felt his heart break when he recognized his room at the Wayne Manor. He longed again for his smaller room with the quilt on the bed and the scarlet walls. He longed for the posters he had of movies from long ago that had cool covers. He wanted the small dresser to be put back in his room and he wanted it to be covered in toys and stuffed to the brim with forgotten objects he had shoved in them.

He longed in his small closet to find four pairs of dark jeans, a few different types of shorts and his favorite green skintight leotard and the white robe that went with it. Richard wanted to see the familiar white bandages that always filled his heart happily when he saw them. He really wanted the family picture that had him and his mother and father smiling happily back beside his bed. Most of all, he longed for his parents to be there, waking him up to remind him that he had to get up for school.

'Momma… Daddy…' he frowned lightly at the thought of them.

The blue eyed boy glanced about his room at the moment in distaste. It had bland cream colored walls with a white and brown carpet that often tickled his feet. His bed was rather big, at least a King size, with a camouflage comforter and fluffy white pillows. His walls were bare, blocked off by simple chestnut dressers with every drawer holding everything neat and folded within its confines. His closet held over twelve pairs of jeans, ranging in length and color. There were twice as many hoodies and t-shirts to match, as well as shorts. There wasn't a single green leotard to hold tight to his chest. And worst of all, he didn't have a family picture next to his bed to look at whenever he got angry or upset.

He quickly blinked faint tears from his eyes. It had been four years now since they had died. Why was he still crying over it? The answer was simple, but he hated to admit it. He was still crying over it because he was still weak; he was still a child and children cried over things a bit too much. He hugged his knees to his chest and pressed his head hard against the cream colored wall behind his head, shutting his eyes weakly.

'This is so stupid Richard. You need to grow the hell up. No one liked a cry baby,' he thought to himself.

He glanced at the clock beside him and nearly had a heart attack. It was already 8:30. Bruce would be up in fifteen minutes to whisk him off to school. As quick as he could, Richard leapt from his bed and out of the pool of self-pity he had been wading deep within. In nothing but his green checkered boxers, the boy sped into the bathroom in his room.

_But I brushed my teeth anyway  
><em>

He picked up his green toothbrush from the drawer and slathered it with toothpaste, thrusting it quickly into his mouth. He nearly gagged at the taste of the toothpaste, but he knew he didn't have long. Ignoring the disgusting taste of overpowering peppermint, he forced his hands to move fast. Richard's mind surfaced back to his dream, despite his best efforts for it not too. It had seemed so real. He had wanted it to be so real. It was just at his fingertips though and he could graze its edge, but he couldn't have it anymore. He bent over the sink and spit a cloud of orange toothpaste into the sink, watching it get swept into the drain like a whirlpool. He lifted his head and looked into the foreign face in the mirror's eyes, noting how empty they seemed.

He quickly reminded himself that he had to finish getting ready so he ran from the bathroom back to the room itself, dashing over to the closet.

_I got dressed through the mess and put a smile on my face  
><em>

Richard pulled the closet doors open and his eyes scanned the available clothing. He wished he had the option to put on the familiar green he longed for, but he knew he couldn't. Instead, he grabbed some of his dark jeans and slid them over his boxers swiftly before scanning his options for shirts. His mind was still stuck on the green leotard he longed for though.

'Stupid dream,' he growled mentally, biting his lower lips gently.

He grabbed a white shirt from its hanger and a dark green hoodie to hold back his hunger for the ancient leotard that was probably in a landfill somewhere now. Once he was dressed, he dashed over to the dresser nearest to his bed and pulled out a pair of colorful socks that didn't match whatsoever, causing a ghost of a smile to pass over his lips. Then he picked up his Converse sneakers and slid them over his socks to keep them hidden from sight. He plopped down on his bed and ran his hands through his hair weakly until it looked mildly presentable. It was just in time too, for a knock sounded on the door a second later.

'I don't want to worry Bruce,' Richard forced a smile over his lips.

"Are you ready?" Bruce asked, nudging the door open with his elbow.

Seeing Richard's smile and the fact that he was dressed, Bruce took that as a yes and gestured for the boy to follow him.

_I got a little bit stronger_

As he walked through the house that he had lived in for four years now, he reminded himself that his life now was fine. Nothing was wrong with living in a mansion and nothing was wrong with having an awesome butler with a good sense of humor. He forced the thoughts of his dream aside and smiled for real this time, snatching his binder from the kitchen chair as he did so.

_Riding in the car to work and I'm trying to ignore the hurt  
><em>

Richard climbed into the black civilian car's passenger side, following two rules he had learned from Zombieland. He checked the backseat before entirely settling down and he buckled his seatbelt. That way, if there truly was a zombie apocalypse at that very moment, he wouldn't fly from the windshield if Bruce swerved to avoid a zombie and he knew that only Bruce and him would be in the car. Bruce, who hadn't seen the movie, buckled his seatbelt anyway before backing out of the garage and beginning the ride to Gotham Academy.

Normally, Richard would've ridden a bus, but Bruce was too protective to even think of risking that, so Bruce dropped him off everyday at exactly 7:12, two minutes after the school officially opened.

_So I turned on the radio, stupid song made me think of you  
><em>

As always, a silence fell over the two. Richard didn't mind silence, but he hated to hear it in cars, so he leaned up and switched on the radio. It immediately went to a country station, telling both Bruce and Richard that Alfred had used the car recently. Richard didn't mind though. He liked country. The first song to come on made Richard freeze a moment. It was 'Born to Fly' by Sara Evans. He honestly loved the song, but it made him think of his mom and dad with how it talked about how far away Heaven is and how long it takes to get there. He sat there for half the song, his lips moving along with the song, but it made his heart hurt.

He averted his eyes to the dashboard, but even that didn't distract his mind. It kept flashing back to his dream. They had seemed so happy, so real. He could still feel their warm embrace and their happiness and their tears, though it occurred to him that the tears might have been his own.

_I listened to it for minute but I changed it  
><em>

Before the song had ended though, Richard cracked and leapt forward to change the station, only to have his seatbelt's child lock restrict him back. He winced at the sudden pressure, but he let his body fall back against the seat before tugging angrily at the black belt, trying to slacken it up. It didn't loosen though, much to his irritation. Bruce did him the favor of switching the station by hitting the button on the steering wheel. Richard smiled and nodded gratefully. Bruce just managed a small smile.

_I'm getting a little bit stronger, just a little bit stronger_

Richard rubbed his sore collarbone, but his heart still hurt. Why did country songs always have to target his poor innocent heart? What'd he ever do to them? He knew that if he had heard the song two years ago, he would've bawled his eyes out, which made him feel a bit better at the thought, but he was still weak. He let his mind began to fade and thoughts came to mind that made his eyes blur, but he just kept calmly blinking, hoping that his tears would stay contained.

_And I'm done hoping that we could work it out  
><em>

Bruce noticed his ward's mood dampen and frowned slightly.

"Richard, are you alright?" he asked, his voice gentle.

Richard's eyes stayed forward.

"Yeah," he lied.

He wanted to tell Bruce that he wasn't, but Bruce wasn't good with consoling and comforting, so he knew that it would do him no good. Bruce saw right through the lie though.

"Are you sure?"

Richard was silent for a moment.

"I… I don't want to talk about it."

Bruce nodded respectively. He wanted to help, but just like Richard, Bruce knew that he couldn't do much. He wasn't a very good people person and comforting was on the long list of things he couldn't do, right next to fly.

_I'm done with how it feels, spinning my wheels  
><em>

Richard furrowed his eyebrows, wrapping his arms around his stomach. He hated worrying Bruce and he hated feeling so vulnerable and weak, the way he always felt when he thought of them. He tried to concentrate on the road beneath the tires, but he just kept thinking back to the two items he needed to be raised properly that couldn't even be found at Wal-Mart.

_Letting you drag my heart around  
><em>

No matter how much he hated to admit it, Richard couldn't deny that he had become obsessed with the matter. He often thought about what would have happened if he had stopped Tony Zucco and their gang from killing his parents. He had often dreamed of what would happen if he hadn't had to attend their funeral four years ago. He couldn't help it though. He was just 13. Most 13 year olds had parents that spoiled them or teased them and such. He just wanted someone to love respectively that was family. He was alone in the world though and his heart was buried beneath the earth, each half in one of his parent's caskets.

_And, oh, I'm done thinking that you could ever change  
><em>

The next night, Richard lay awake, enjoying the silence of his room. He glanced about the room, feeling the familiar dread he felt that came with seeing the room, but his mind was off of his dream finally. He was sick of dreaming about his aprents anyway. He never wanted to dream that they were there with him again. He never wanted to see their warm smiles and their happy faces in his mind as long as he lived. Richard knew that it would never happen in real life again, so why should he have to suffer in his dreams? It wasn't ever fair.

_I know my heart will never be the same  
><em>

There's a saying that Richard knew well: 'the heart wants what the heart wants'. Lucky for him though, his heart's halves had what they wanted. Each half had a parent and the day he joined his parents, his heart would be returned to his chest and he'd have what he wanted, but it wasn't the same. It would never be the same. He didn't care though. What did it matter? You only live about a hundred years and he was only 87 years from then. Only 31,668 days, not including those that had already passed that year and the days from leap years. He'd be rejoined with his missing wants and desires soon enough.

_But I'm telling myself I'll be okay  
><em>

The harder he thought on it, the better Richard felt. He didn't need his parents. He had Bruce, Alfred and Wally. He had a firm but delicate protection, a warm smile and a brother basically to keep him safe until then. That was all he needed in a family for now. That was all he desired for now, and this make-shift family was perfect.

_Even on my weakest days, I get a little bit stronger_

That night was one of his strongest in a long while. He knew he wasn't ready to let go completely, but he was ready to whenever he got that inner push that he needed. He was stronger than yesterday and he was sure that tomorrow, he'd be moping and sobbing again, soaking in his sorrows, but for now, he was stronger. He was getting along just fine without them. _  
><em>  
><em>Doesn't happen overnight but you turn around<br>_

The next morning, he was wrong. He didn't start crying. He didn't even think about them until he heard another song on the radio, but he actually smiled. He felt much stronger now, although it still hurt inside. He was getting along and that's all that mattered to him.

_And a month's gone by and you realize you haven't cried  
><em>

Before Richard knew it, two months had gone by and he hadn't shed a tear. He had been busy training and living his life. He felt proud of himself. Maybe he was actually growing up. The thought was a foreign one, but he liked it. The idea of graduating from that familiar sorrow made his heart skip a hopeful beat.

_I'm not giving you an hour or a second or another minute longer  
><em>

As time crept on, Richard felt the weakness return, but he still didn't cry. Bruce had confined in him one fateful evening that even he still got upset at the thought of his parents and that reassured his own self-esteem, but he wasn't Bruce. He wasn't going to get sad again. He was going to embrace this weakness and make it a uniqueness. He decided to start visiting the cemetery again and talking to his parents because he had faith now that he wouldn't be crying. He accepted that they were dead and he could handle the world now, even when he felt ready to crack. Everyone cries every now and again. It's only human, after all.

_I'm busy getting stronger  
><em>

Richard sat down on the ground beside their graves, smiling gently.

"Hey," he greeted them, staring down at the patched and yellow grass. "How are you treating my heart? I don't want you guys to hurt it because it's the only one I've got you know."

Not a tear made his eyes shine as he sat there every visit, talking to their corpses because he knew they were just that now. Maybe their souls were listening to him high above, but they weren't alive anymore and he could accept that. He was stronger now, and that's all that mattered.

**I know that each stanza is basically a different story, but I don't care. Boredom kicked in and I love this song. It's called 'A Little Bit Stronger' by Sara Evans and it's beautiful. It's about her getting over a break up, but I made it work the best I could. Happy Mother's Day!**

**-FrankandJoe3's human side**


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